


Accept Me, Please?

by CaptEdKenway



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Timelines, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Non canon compliant, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Sad Stiles, pre-Sterek - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 03:24:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8516590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptEdKenway/pseuds/CaptEdKenway
Summary: When Derek finally tracks down the scent that's been alluding him for weeks since the Nogitsune, he finds that Stiles is not as okay as he'd like everyone to believe, and that just isn't okay with Derek.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm playing very loose with canon here in that Erica and Boyd are still alive and Derek is still an Alpha, because he'll always be an Alpha to me :-)

It was a typical pack night, for all intents and purposes. They had discussed the latest big bad to blow through Beacon Hills, then had eaten an epic number of pizzas and spent the rest of the evening watching movies and just hanging out. Most of the pack had coupled up, Scott and Kira, Lydia and Jackson, Erica and Boyd. They were spread out amongst the couches and chairs and Isaac sat on the floor, leaning up against Erica’s legs while Stiles was sprawled over an arm chair as they watched some Rom-Com that had just come out on DVD.

It was times like this when Derek usually felt at ease. They had run off the coven of witches who had wanted to see what kind of trouble they could rustle up with a wolf pack, but other than that they’d been rather harmless. More of a general pain in the ass. But they were gone, the town was safe, his pack was safe and content. And he should’ve been able to relax, but there was something that just wouldn’t let him let go completely. He stood in the kitchen watching the coffee pot percolate, waiting for it to finish brewing and looked out into the den, letting his eyes roam over his pack mates. Everyone seemed happy, most were laughing at the movie. Boyd was rolling his eyes at the women who were going on about how hot the male lead was. Jackson was playing on his phone. Stiles was making fun of the movie.

They all looked content, so he let his senses drift hoping to pick up on whatever it was that was niggling at him. For the past few weeks, ever since the Alpha pack and then right after that, the Nogitsune, had been defeated, Derek had been every so often getting a ping of this - whatever this feeling was. It wasn’t quite despair or sadness, not quite hurt, it was so faint and momentary that he couldn’t place the emotion attached to it or the person from whom it came. It was fairly obvious it was someone in the room though, that much he knew.

As he let his mind relax and his senses drift through the den he could just make out the slightest tinge of this feeling. But again, it was so faint he could barely grasp on to it, let alone follow it to its source. He blew a breath out of his lips noisily as he felt the frustration grow. Rather than let it fester he poured himself a mug of coffee, tossed a small bit of sugar in and walked back into the den as he gently swirled a spoon through the liquid, helping to dissolve the sugar. He sat down in his chair that the rest of the pack knew never to take. He’d suffered through many a “Sheldon Cooper” comment, usually from Stiles, but Derek didn’t care. That was his chair, and only his. It was the only piece of furniture that had survived the fire and had been his mom’s favorite. Derek had spent the time refinishing it, sanding the wood to remove the parts that had been singed or outright burned, then re-upholstered it in a fabric that suited his tastes. So yes, it was his chair damn it.

The movie was inane and Erica and Boyd were making out, and it looked like Scott and Kira weren’t too far behind them, so Derek let himself wander again, his eyes drifting shut. He once again let his senses loose and took in each of the people in the room. He felt like he was caressing each member, flowing around each of them. He could pick up that scent again and he honed in on it. It flickered, almost as if it was trying to make itself known but someone was trying to close the door on it. There was a quick spike but before he could latch on it was gone and he was being interrupted.

“You sleepin’ sourwolf?”

Derek opened his eyes to see Stiles standing there looking at him with a look that was part fond, part amused and part – something other.

“Hmm? No, just relaxing,” Derek replied as he realized he’d finally nailed down the source of the scent. “What’s up? You ok?” He asked softly.

Stiles rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and looked at the room, then the floor, before going back to Derek with a tired look on his face. Derek really looked at him, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the tired expression that was always hidden under a typical veneer of ‘Stiles’.

“Yeah man, I’m fine. Right as a rain. I’m just gonna head home, everyone’s mackin’ on each other and I’d rather poke my eyeballs out than watch all that,” Stiles said with a grin and mock look of disgust. “Anyways, you should get some sleep too old man. Honestly, big bad alpha falling asleep in his grandpa chair,” he teased.

Derek just offered a small smile and nodded goodnight to the lanky kid, telling him to be careful on his way home. Stiles gave him a wave and made his way out of the loft, calling over his shoulder to the rest of the pack and telling them to use protection.

Derek went upstairs to his bedroom, not wanting to be the third wheel to the couples in the den and watched tv for an hour before quietly heading back downstairs. No one bothered when he quietly slid his door opened and slipped out into the night.

He opted to jog to his destination, needing the crisp evening air to keep him alert and his mind clear. He wasn’t sure what the hell he thought he was going to accomplish but somehow he wasn’t going to deny it either. Realizing tonight that this sense of despair and sadness was coming from Stiles hit him hard. Stiles was the rock of his pack, not that anyone ever really told him that. Derek knew Stiles had put up with a bunch of bullshit from the likes of Erica and Jackson. They were never shy in reminding him that he was the frail human. And while Stiles would always joke about being the squishy human and shucking off any teasing or out-right derision (usually from Jackson) like water off a duck’s back, Derek realized Stiles wasn’t as immune as he thought.

That thought stopped Derek in his tracks, which just happened to be across the street and a couple of feet into the wooded section from Stiles’ house. The driveway showed only the Jeep, so his dad must be at work. But Derek couldn’t help but stand there and look at the house, pulling up various memories of Stiles where at the time Derek had thought he’d come out of the latest scuffle just fine, or dealt with some kind of a sharp comment from one of the pack. Stiles had done nothing but throw his all into protecting the pack, and all without the benefit of werewolf healing and senses. He’d been tortured by Gerard, terrorized by various enemies. Dealt with the Alpha pack, and the whole Nogitsune trauma, how the hell had he survived? He’d seen his wolf packmates thrown down and watched them whine and cry, but Stiles- Stiles picked himself back up, grabbed his bat and threw himself back into the fight without a word. Derek had never had to second guess whether Stiles had his back. Even when dealing with the kanima, when they were barely friendly towards each other, Stiles had kept him above water in that god forsaken pool for hours. He honestly couldn’t say whether any of his betas would’ve done the same thing.

But when he re-ran those memories through his head with the knowledge of that damn scent he realized Stiles didn’t come out okay after all. Derek realized Stiles had mastered the art of not only the poker face, but of masking his scent and emotions from him and the pack. From Derek.

And that –that was not fucking okay.

* * *

 

He effortlessly climbed up the side of the Stilinski house and this one time felt grateful that Stiles was not a wolf and couldn’t smell the fact that Derek was creeping up towards his room. Or smell how completely overwhelmed Derek was by the full force of the chemo signals emanating from the bedroom. Derek sat there, out of sight, breathing in through his mouth to get his bearings. The intense scents were too much. Sadness, despair, longing, loneliness and alcohol wafted from the open window. It was the scent of alcohol that got him moving again and he slowly edged to the window, hoping to get a peek before making his presence known.

He could see Stiles on his bed, his back up against the wall and his legs up, his arms hanging over his knees and a beer bottle hanging from a hand. He stared off into space, eyes unfocused as he robotically took another swig. Derek could see an empty bottle on its side on the night table. Derek just watched him, his face a picture of a broken and used up man, and he felt his chest tighten at the sight. Stiles was not okay in the slightest. He kept his eyes on him as he gently rapped his knuckles against the window sill, getting his attention.

Stiles jumped as his eyes zeroed in on the window and Derek noted how quickly the emotions and chemo signals were wrapped up tight and put away, his face breaking out into a grin as he quickly hid the beer bottles. This time though, Derek saw how that grin, the grin he’d always accepted before as genuine, didn’t actually reach his eyes.

“Dude, you scared…”

“Don’t.”

That was all Derek said as he climbed in, his eyes never leaving Stiles.

“Don’t what sourwolf? Dude I’m eighteen, I’m practically old enough to drink and it’s not like I’m out dri…”

Derek cut him off again. “No, _don’t_. Don’t hide from me anymore, Stiles.”

Stiles snorted and gave Derek a funny look. He wasn’t quite sure what Derek was getting at, so Derek moved in towards him.

“I don’t know if it’s a testament to how well you’ve been able to hide, or how oblivious I am as an alpha, or perhaps it’s a combination of the two. But this,” Derek waved a hand over Stiles, “this stops tonight.”

Stiles swallowed hard, his face losing the remains of his grin altogether, backing up as Derek moved forward. He hit the wall of his room with a soft thunk. “Dude, I have no idea what you’re going on about. Did you smoke some wolfsbane or something?”

Derek’s nostrils flared slightly, taking in the panic that began to emanate from Stiles. He closed his eyes, trying to work the words in his head before speaking. He had a feeling this could go terribly, terribly wrong if he wasn’t careful. When he opened them it was to see Stiles chewing on his thumb but with a shrewd look deep in his eyes. He could almost see Stiles working the chess set in his mind, for that’s how he had come to think of Stiles’ inner workings. Everything Stiles did was a chess game. It was no accident that the nogitsune had used the set to communicate. Stiles planned, he strategized. He was always two steps ahead of others and Derek could see him planning his moves in the depths of his whiskey colored eyes.

Derek let out a breath, trying to remain a solid front, but one that was non-threatning. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it,” he said quietly. “You’ve built an impressive façade, ever since the possession. But you don’t have to anymore Stiles.”

Stiles’ eyes widened ever so slightly and he quickly squirted out from around Derek, making his way so that his back was to the door. Another chess move, Derek thought as he let him position himself on the board.

“Dude, I’m not possessed anymore, you know that, it’s gone. Scott bit the other me and it fucking turned to ash!” Stiles began to panic, thinking that Derek was here for completely different reasons. Derek needed to fix this fast.

“I know that Stiles. I know you’re not possessed anymore. Believe me. But you haven’t healed. You’ve put on a mask of ‘I’m ok!’ and we all bought it. You get knocked down and you get back up, grin and let loose with some kind of sarcastic comment and keep going. I should’ve been able to see through it, to see how _not okay_ you really are. You once joked that sarcasm was your only defense, and now I realize how very true and literal that is.”

Derek could see Stiles working the inside of his lower lip, probably chewing it all to hell. He could also see that mask begin to falter. A flash of emotions crossed through his eyes as he looked off, not daring to look at Derek. His fingers began to fidget along the hem of his shirt, a definite tell that Stiles was anything but settled. The problem was that with him at the doorway to the room Derek wasn’t sure if Stiles would bolt. Not that Derek couldn’t catch him before he even made it down the stairs, but he honestly didn’t want Stiles think he was here to threaten. Quite the opposite.

“You know, for a while now I’ve been catching the briefest scent. I couldn’t tell who it was coming from, only that it was someone in the pack.” He heard Stiles snort when he said ‘pack’, and quirked his head a little. “It wasn’t until tonight that I finally realized who it was coming from. This scent has been bothering me for a while now…”

Stiles cut in, his face looking hard. But Derek felt sadness and now anger rolling off of him. “Look man, I get it, ok? Squishy human, I get it. I mean it’s not like you guys let me forget that I’m not as strong or as good as the rest of your pack.”

“What do you mean, _my_ pack? And you snorted when I mentioned it a second ago. Do you not include yourself as part of us?” Derek asked, feeling like things could spiral out of control quick. Stiles let out a humorless laugh as he rubbed both hands over his hair. And suddenly Derek was slammed with the full force of Stiles’ emotions as he looked at Derek finally and let his mask slip for good. The sense of longing, sadness, want, it was almost too much for Derek to take in all at once.

“Sti…”

Stiles just shook his head, his face hard but dejected. “I’ve never been a part of the pack. Jackson and Erica use every opportunity to tell me that. I know you guys put up with me because I was a tag along with Scott and apparently the only one who knows how to Google shit. But don’t stand there and try to tell me I’m part of the pack.”

Stiles took a breath in deeply, wiping his face angrily as a tear fell. “I never wanted the bite, I am who I am. And I figured I’d be ok with that, you know? I could be pack adjacent or whatever. I tried to accept that I could never really be part of you guys with your stupid powers. And then of course everyone’s all matched up nice and neat because of course all the beautiful people want other beautiful people. I guess, I don’t know,” he sighed out, shaking his head. “I’m just stupid for wanting more,” he whispered to himself, but Derek heard it. Heard it loud and clear.

Derek walked up to Stiles and couldn’t help it when his hand seemed to raise on its own, cupping Stiles’ cheek gently. Stiles startled a little, surprised by the alpha touching him. He quickly looked at Derek before averting his eyes again, his damn thumb making its way back into his mouth to be mauled. Derek pulled his chin up, making Stiles look at him.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” he said quietly. “You have no idea how much you mean to the pack, to me. I cannot honestly imagine this pack without you in it. You are the one person I can rely on one hundred percent of the time. I have never seen anyone as determined as you to help keep a group of people safe, to get done what needs to be done. You put yourself in the line of fire without even thinking twice if it means saving someone else. You held my ass up in that damn pool for over two hours, before we were even close to being friendly. That says a lot about your character, Stiles. You are a part of this pack, don’t ever question that. You are not pack adjacent nor do I tolerate you because you were a package deal with Scott.”

Derek let his thumb slide over slightly, catching a tear that fell from Stiles’ eye and ran over his lips. He could smell the want and slight tinge of arousal. He knew Stiles had a thing for him, and Derek being Derek, ‘Mr. Man Pain’ as Stiles sometimes called him, had kept his distance. First it was age and Stiles not being quite legal, but then it was the belief on Derek’s part that Stiles could do so much better. Their friendship had grown much stronger and he was loathe to risk it to seek anything more. But, perhaps that was a mistake.

He brought his other hand up as more tears fell, wiping them gently with his thumbs. Stiles wasn’t looking at him again. As they fell quicker Derek pulled Stiles in, rubbing his nose along his temple, trying to soothe him. He whispered into his hair, “what can I do to prove to you how much you mean to me, and how important you are as a pack member?”

He could feel Stiles take deep breaths and then he was pulling pack, putting distance between them. At first Derek thought Stiles was going to leave, but he finally looked up at him slightly and Derek was caught by the look of nerves on his face. Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, tears still falling as he slowly tilted his head. Derek stood stunned. Stiles was offering his neck in submission and the scent of utter want, an almost pleading want tinged with the sweet smell of arousal was so potent that Derek’s eyes bled red and his gums itched as his fangs dropped. Stiles was asking for acceptance in more ways than one, and judging by the scents rolling off of him, he wasn’t sure if he’d get it or not.

“Oh Stiles…,” he breathed out. No one in his pack had ever done this, they were arrogant kids in both body and mind. He moved in and cupped Stiles’ face again. He had his eyes clenched shut, not wanting to see what was on Derek’s face possibly, in case it was rejection.

“Like I could ever reject you,” he whispered as he nosed into Stiles’ neck, grazing his fangs over the skin. Stiles let out shuddering breaths as he almost hyperventilated. The sour scents were changing into sweeter tones of hope. Derek let his human teeth come back to the surface. He wouldn’t bite with his wolf teeth and risk turning him. He kept nuzzling him, licking the skin and worrying the skin between the blunt edges before he bit down hard. He broke the skin and could taste the blood but he made sure to pull every ounce of pain he caused. The sense of relief that poured off of Stiles was followed by a quiet sob. Derek let go with his teeth and licked the wound, sucking on the skin to sooth the bite. He let his hands move, one moving around Stiles’ hips while the other cupped the back of his head and Derek pulled him in tight, embracing him and letting his own feelings show. He gave a gentle kiss to the side of his neck and rubbed his nose against the same spot, scenting him and he could feel Stiles’ body begin to go lax in relief. Derek held him for who knows how long, keeping him wrapped tight in his embrace.

After some time he could feel Stiles go lax enough that Derek knew it was time for him to lay down. He’d never claimed a human, but he imagined much like claiming a wolf the body would need time to recover slightly.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he said quietly as he pulled back and swooped Stiles up in a bridal carry, bringing him over to the bed. Stiles had clutched the front of his shirt and had his head tucked up under Derek’s chin, and Derek couldn’t imagine anything else feeling so natural as to have Stiles tucked into him. The bed was already unmade so he laid him down and pulled his shoes off before covering him up with the blankets.

“Will you stay?” Stiles asked, then backpedaled. “I mean that’s ok, I’m sure…”

Derek didn’t let him finish before getting in next to him, on top of the blankets. But he wasted no time in pulling Stiles in and tucking him in just the way he wanted him, placing another gentle kiss on his forehead, hand caressing his cheek. “I’ve got you Stiles, go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

There was a muffled ‘okay’ and Derek could feel him drift off to sleep surrounded in the scent of contentment.

* * *

 

John trudged up the steps to his room, tired off his ass. It had been a long night and he was very much looking forward to hitting his bed and hopefully sleeping for the next year. As he came up to the top he saw that Stiles’ light was still on, despite it being close to four a.m.

He poked his head in and was surprised by the sight that greeted him. His son slept soundly, which was a first, tucked up tight against the chest of Derek Hale, who had both arms wrapped around his son in a protective hold while his chin rested on the top of Stiles’ head. Both were sleeping soundly so he stepped in lightly. He pulled the blanket off from where it was piled on the floor and draped it over Derek, his hand resting on the man’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he whispered, before turning off the light and pulling the door closed and retreating to his own room.

 

 


End file.
